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edenfallingSlow day. Still no job nibbles, but I got my paycheck from my last half week of the old job. Yay money. Am skating the tight edge of being dead broke, though, so I'd better find something by January.
Still a rough draft -- this scene in particular needs tweaking.
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Chapter One: I Will Show You Something Different, Part VI
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"I'm still not sure this is a good idea."
Bren paused briefly in her packing, hands stilled halfway through folding a skirt into her bag, and gave Talin a disgusted look. He shifted uneasily as he sat on her sister's bed. "Listen, turnip brains. You agree, you packed, and you're going. Stop second-guessing yourself."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Talin said, just to prove he wasn't intimidated, but he didn't complain further. It wasn't generally wise to push Bren when she had that sort of expression on her face, and tension and excitement almost visibly thrumming through her body.
It was true, though. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to Bren's insane plan. Granted, it would solve his current problems -- his father and Lord Teluren -- but only by creating new ones. At least he was used to dealing with his father, and Lord Teluren couldn't be that much different, not if his father thought it was worthwhile for Talin to serve him.
Bren was far too persuasive for his peace of mind.
Talin had burst into her family's house the afternoon his father had casually planned out his next several years of life, apologized to his uncle, and dragged Bren out into the lowering sun for a discussion. 'Discussion' was probably not the word for what had happened -- the whole mess had simply come pouring out, mingled with curses, and finished off with a plaintive, "What am I supposed to do?"
"Leave," Bren had said calmly, still picking away at her embroidery hoop.
"What? I come to you for help and you're sending me away, just like that?"
Bren had rolled her eyes. "No, turnip brains! I mean that's what you should do. Leave home. You're grown, my da will help support you even if Uncle Arhed feels a need to disown you, and you want to live your own life instead of letting your father live it for you. So leave.
"And," she'd added, raising her embroidery hoop in a threatening fashion, "take me with you! I have a feeling you're going to have an interesting life once you finally get around to living it."
Remembering that conversation, Talin shook his head. The last thing he wanted was an interesting life. That was one of his main objections to serving Lord Teluren, in fact -- he'd get involved in politics by default, when he'd much rather stay on Car Cilvar even if he had to put up with his father.
"One last thing," Bren said now as she tied her bag closed and glanced around the dim, narrow room she shared with her sister, eyes skimming over the piles of her unchosen possessions. "Which of us is carrying the sword?"
"The sword? No. Bren, I don't care what you think -- I'm not touching it again."
"Talin ben Cilvar..."
Talin met Bren's gaze steadily. "No."
"You want to leave it here?" Bren asked incredulously. "At the least we could sell it somewhere for money, or you could carry it to intimidate bandits. You probably wouldn't even have to use it -- you walked like you were dangerous when you held it, and they'll see that. Listen, Talin, it's obviously your dinn to be swordborn--"
"No," Talin said again, cutting off the stream of Bren's words.
There was no way in the world that he was going to touch that sword again, not when he'd come within an inch of slicing off Bren's head the last time he'd held it. She could talk all she wanted about knowing he was in control, knowing that he could obviously judge exactly how to stop his swing without killing her, but Talin knew better. He wasn't himself with that sword in his hand. He was someone who enjoyed showing off, someone at ease in his body, someone who looked for threats, calculated odds, and would probably kill without a second thought.
Talin refused to be that person.
There were three forces said to govern fate: nadra, moira, and dinn. Nadra, weighed and judged by seven kings in the time between one life and the next, determined your chances of fortune and misfortune along any path you tried. Moira, woven by three sisters through all of your days, nudged you toward a path, and drew all your options closer together. And dinn was your talent, the gifts bestowed by the turning of the Great Wheel at the moment of your birth.
But fate was always in motion, and it was the prerogative of humanity to choose their own paths. If Talin's dinn pushed him toward a path he abhorred, he could simply refuse to walk it. Fate was a hard thing to oppose. But it could be done.
"I choose my own fate," Talin said to Bren. "I don't care what my dinn is. I refuse to take that sword."
Bren scowled. "Don't set yourself against the Wheel; that only leads to grief."
"Then I'll be miserable all of my life. It's my choice, Bren. Not yours, not anybody else's. You've told me for years not to let my father make my choices for me. I'm not going to let you take his place." Talin stood, scooped Bren's pack off her bed, and handed it to her. "We're not taking the sword. Now let's say goodbye to your family."
"Turnip brains. So excited to find it -- 'Look, Bren, a sword!' -- and now he wants to pretend it doesn't exist. Won't even be practical and sell the blasted piece of metal. No, he has to pretend it's evil, that it's forcing him down an evil path -- has to reject his dinn..."
Bren cut off her muttered stream of complaints when she and Talin reached the front room of her house. Her family, all five of them, had gathered to see the travelers off; they were completely aware of Talin and Bren's plans, whereas Arhed ben Cilvar was under the impression that his son was spending the day walking the ben Cilvar estates, so as to be able to describe them properly for Lord Teluren.
Bren's father smiled weakly at his daughter and nephew, and waved a hand at their packs. "Well, you're more organized about leaving Car Cilvar than I was. That's a good start."
"Eifven, anyone who spends just half an hour thinking about it could be more organized about leaving Car Cilvar than you were," Bren's mother said, taking up the thread of the old family joke in an effort to lighten the mood. "Talin, you take good care of my daughter. Don't let her jump into anything dangerous. And Bren, you make sure he doesn't brood too much and remembers to have a bit of fun."
Bren swallowed. "I promise, mama. I'll miss you."
"So don't go!" said her youngest brother, Cirhan, pouting up at her. "You can stay here, Talin, and we won't let stupid Uncle Arhed send you away."
Talin crouched down to Cirhan's level, hiding a smile. "Thank you for the offer. I'm sure you'd do a good job of keeping my father away, but I don't want to make him angry with you. And we'll be back sooner or later, with lots of stories to tell about our adventures -- stories more interesting than your father's," he added with a grin.
"Hai now," Eifven said with wink. "Don't you bad-mouth me to my children."
"But it's true," Bren's sister Meirhicha said from her perch by the fireplace. "Your stories are boring. Bren, you have to promise to do more interesting things." Her other brother, Oddain, nodded in agreement.
"You'll promise nothing of the sort," said Bren's mother. "I won't have you looking for danger and sticking your nose into foolish plots just to have interesting stories when you come home. That's nothing but asking for trouble. Talin, don't let her get carried away. I'm relying on you."
"Yes, Aunt Duri."
"Now, before this starts turning into one of those interminable farewell scenes and you use up all your good traveling hours, you two line up and we'll all hug you, say goodbye, and see you on your way," Duri said. "Eifven first, then Oddain, Meirhi, and Cirhan, and I'll go last."
Talin and Bren, long accustomed to Duri's managing tendencies, stood beside each other and prepared to say goodbye to their family. Talin had to admit that this did at least remove the awkward uncertainty of when to leave, even though it did feel a bit abrupt.
"You're ten times the man your father is," Eifven told him. "Never doubt that." He clapped Talin abruptly on the shoulder and stood back to watch his children say farewell to each other, not giving his nephew any chance to reply.
"I'll miss you when we're out watching the sheep," Oddain offered, moving forward as Talin stared at Eifven. He didn't hug Talin, but clasped his arm like a man, with an air of awkwardness about the unfamiliar gesture.
"You're of age in three months; they'll give you more respect after that," Talin said, remembering his own discomfort in the awkward year around his sixteenth birthday. Oddain smiled and returned to the fireplace.
Meirhi was next, having just sent Bren into a fit of laughter. "I don't care what mama says," she whispered in Talin's ear. "Bren can look after herself, so don't worry yourself to death over her. I want you to remember that we're your family too, not just Uncle Arhed, and think about that if you start brooding."
Talin blinked. Meirhi was like her sister: more perceptive than she let on, rarely serious, and yet prone to dropping an occasional stone of truth that could recast his entire frame of thought. "I'll remember that."
Cirhan, only seven years old, didn't keep his voice down particularly well, nor did he conceal his irritation at this breaking up of his family. "Don't go," he said. "Uncle Arhed's got turnips for brains and daddy will make him let you stay."
"I'm sorry, Cirhan," Talin said. "I don't want to leave you, but sometimes we can't do everything we want to do. And there's more to the world than Car Cilvar. Bren and I are going to see some of it, and we'll tell you all about it when we come back home."
"I still don't want you to go," said Cirhan, leaning a little against Talin.
"It isn't any fun," Talin agreed. "But I'll come back."
"You promise?"
Talin glanced at Bren, who shrugged: 'your choice,' she mouthed.
"Yes, I promise," he said to Cirhan, laying his hand over his heart. "Good or bad, up or down, round and round, someday I'll come home. All right?"
"Good," Cirhan said, before dashing over to pester Meirhi and Oddain by the fireplace.
Duri, who gathered Bren into a hug, released her daughter and smiled at Talin. "Thank you for being kind to him. They think of you as a brother, you know, and I'm glad you don't push them away like Arhed does."
Talin shrugged in embarrassment. He didn't actually think of Bren's siblings as his own brothers and sisters, but there was no denying he was a lot closer to them than to his own father. "I like them," he said helplessly.
Duri smiled. "It shows. Now, I've already told you to keep an eye on Bren. I want you also to take care of yourself -- remember to eat properly, and remember that you're allowed to enjoy yourself. Arhed never realized that, I think, and I'd hate to see you end up like him after all these years. You hear me?"
Talin nodded. "Yes, Aunt Duri."
"Good." She smiled. "Now off with the both of you. Safe journey, wherever the Wheel may lead you."
"Safe journey," the others chorused.
"Safe harbor," Bren responded, accompanied by Talin's nod, before they shouldered their packs once again. "Be well."
Talin had a sudden premonition that no matter how much he promised to keep Bren out of trouble and avoid adventures, she was right that his life would be interesting. And people with interesting lives, people with strong moira, rarely returned to their homes. An age of his life was ending, and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to recover it.
The door swung shut behind them with a solid thunk of finality.
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End Chapter One
Still a rough draft -- this scene in particular needs tweaking.
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Chapter One: I Will Show You Something Different, Part VI
---------------------------------------------
"I'm still not sure this is a good idea."
Bren paused briefly in her packing, hands stilled halfway through folding a skirt into her bag, and gave Talin a disgusted look. He shifted uneasily as he sat on her sister's bed. "Listen, turnip brains. You agree, you packed, and you're going. Stop second-guessing yourself."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Talin said, just to prove he wasn't intimidated, but he didn't complain further. It wasn't generally wise to push Bren when she had that sort of expression on her face, and tension and excitement almost visibly thrumming through her body.
It was true, though. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to Bren's insane plan. Granted, it would solve his current problems -- his father and Lord Teluren -- but only by creating new ones. At least he was used to dealing with his father, and Lord Teluren couldn't be that much different, not if his father thought it was worthwhile for Talin to serve him.
Bren was far too persuasive for his peace of mind.
Talin had burst into her family's house the afternoon his father had casually planned out his next several years of life, apologized to his uncle, and dragged Bren out into the lowering sun for a discussion. 'Discussion' was probably not the word for what had happened -- the whole mess had simply come pouring out, mingled with curses, and finished off with a plaintive, "What am I supposed to do?"
"Leave," Bren had said calmly, still picking away at her embroidery hoop.
"What? I come to you for help and you're sending me away, just like that?"
Bren had rolled her eyes. "No, turnip brains! I mean that's what you should do. Leave home. You're grown, my da will help support you even if Uncle Arhed feels a need to disown you, and you want to live your own life instead of letting your father live it for you. So leave.
"And," she'd added, raising her embroidery hoop in a threatening fashion, "take me with you! I have a feeling you're going to have an interesting life once you finally get around to living it."
Remembering that conversation, Talin shook his head. The last thing he wanted was an interesting life. That was one of his main objections to serving Lord Teluren, in fact -- he'd get involved in politics by default, when he'd much rather stay on Car Cilvar even if he had to put up with his father.
"One last thing," Bren said now as she tied her bag closed and glanced around the dim, narrow room she shared with her sister, eyes skimming over the piles of her unchosen possessions. "Which of us is carrying the sword?"
"The sword? No. Bren, I don't care what you think -- I'm not touching it again."
"Talin ben Cilvar..."
Talin met Bren's gaze steadily. "No."
"You want to leave it here?" Bren asked incredulously. "At the least we could sell it somewhere for money, or you could carry it to intimidate bandits. You probably wouldn't even have to use it -- you walked like you were dangerous when you held it, and they'll see that. Listen, Talin, it's obviously your dinn to be swordborn--"
"No," Talin said again, cutting off the stream of Bren's words.
There was no way in the world that he was going to touch that sword again, not when he'd come within an inch of slicing off Bren's head the last time he'd held it. She could talk all she wanted about knowing he was in control, knowing that he could obviously judge exactly how to stop his swing without killing her, but Talin knew better. He wasn't himself with that sword in his hand. He was someone who enjoyed showing off, someone at ease in his body, someone who looked for threats, calculated odds, and would probably kill without a second thought.
Talin refused to be that person.
There were three forces said to govern fate: nadra, moira, and dinn. Nadra, weighed and judged by seven kings in the time between one life and the next, determined your chances of fortune and misfortune along any path you tried. Moira, woven by three sisters through all of your days, nudged you toward a path, and drew all your options closer together. And dinn was your talent, the gifts bestowed by the turning of the Great Wheel at the moment of your birth.
But fate was always in motion, and it was the prerogative of humanity to choose their own paths. If Talin's dinn pushed him toward a path he abhorred, he could simply refuse to walk it. Fate was a hard thing to oppose. But it could be done.
"I choose my own fate," Talin said to Bren. "I don't care what my dinn is. I refuse to take that sword."
Bren scowled. "Don't set yourself against the Wheel; that only leads to grief."
"Then I'll be miserable all of my life. It's my choice, Bren. Not yours, not anybody else's. You've told me for years not to let my father make my choices for me. I'm not going to let you take his place." Talin stood, scooped Bren's pack off her bed, and handed it to her. "We're not taking the sword. Now let's say goodbye to your family."
"Turnip brains. So excited to find it -- 'Look, Bren, a sword!' -- and now he wants to pretend it doesn't exist. Won't even be practical and sell the blasted piece of metal. No, he has to pretend it's evil, that it's forcing him down an evil path -- has to reject his dinn..."
Bren cut off her muttered stream of complaints when she and Talin reached the front room of her house. Her family, all five of them, had gathered to see the travelers off; they were completely aware of Talin and Bren's plans, whereas Arhed ben Cilvar was under the impression that his son was spending the day walking the ben Cilvar estates, so as to be able to describe them properly for Lord Teluren.
Bren's father smiled weakly at his daughter and nephew, and waved a hand at their packs. "Well, you're more organized about leaving Car Cilvar than I was. That's a good start."
"Eifven, anyone who spends just half an hour thinking about it could be more organized about leaving Car Cilvar than you were," Bren's mother said, taking up the thread of the old family joke in an effort to lighten the mood. "Talin, you take good care of my daughter. Don't let her jump into anything dangerous. And Bren, you make sure he doesn't brood too much and remembers to have a bit of fun."
Bren swallowed. "I promise, mama. I'll miss you."
"So don't go!" said her youngest brother, Cirhan, pouting up at her. "You can stay here, Talin, and we won't let stupid Uncle Arhed send you away."
Talin crouched down to Cirhan's level, hiding a smile. "Thank you for the offer. I'm sure you'd do a good job of keeping my father away, but I don't want to make him angry with you. And we'll be back sooner or later, with lots of stories to tell about our adventures -- stories more interesting than your father's," he added with a grin.
"Hai now," Eifven said with wink. "Don't you bad-mouth me to my children."
"But it's true," Bren's sister Meirhicha said from her perch by the fireplace. "Your stories are boring. Bren, you have to promise to do more interesting things." Her other brother, Oddain, nodded in agreement.
"You'll promise nothing of the sort," said Bren's mother. "I won't have you looking for danger and sticking your nose into foolish plots just to have interesting stories when you come home. That's nothing but asking for trouble. Talin, don't let her get carried away. I'm relying on you."
"Yes, Aunt Duri."
"Now, before this starts turning into one of those interminable farewell scenes and you use up all your good traveling hours, you two line up and we'll all hug you, say goodbye, and see you on your way," Duri said. "Eifven first, then Oddain, Meirhi, and Cirhan, and I'll go last."
Talin and Bren, long accustomed to Duri's managing tendencies, stood beside each other and prepared to say goodbye to their family. Talin had to admit that this did at least remove the awkward uncertainty of when to leave, even though it did feel a bit abrupt.
"You're ten times the man your father is," Eifven told him. "Never doubt that." He clapped Talin abruptly on the shoulder and stood back to watch his children say farewell to each other, not giving his nephew any chance to reply.
"I'll miss you when we're out watching the sheep," Oddain offered, moving forward as Talin stared at Eifven. He didn't hug Talin, but clasped his arm like a man, with an air of awkwardness about the unfamiliar gesture.
"You're of age in three months; they'll give you more respect after that," Talin said, remembering his own discomfort in the awkward year around his sixteenth birthday. Oddain smiled and returned to the fireplace.
Meirhi was next, having just sent Bren into a fit of laughter. "I don't care what mama says," she whispered in Talin's ear. "Bren can look after herself, so don't worry yourself to death over her. I want you to remember that we're your family too, not just Uncle Arhed, and think about that if you start brooding."
Talin blinked. Meirhi was like her sister: more perceptive than she let on, rarely serious, and yet prone to dropping an occasional stone of truth that could recast his entire frame of thought. "I'll remember that."
Cirhan, only seven years old, didn't keep his voice down particularly well, nor did he conceal his irritation at this breaking up of his family. "Don't go," he said. "Uncle Arhed's got turnips for brains and daddy will make him let you stay."
"I'm sorry, Cirhan," Talin said. "I don't want to leave you, but sometimes we can't do everything we want to do. And there's more to the world than Car Cilvar. Bren and I are going to see some of it, and we'll tell you all about it when we come back home."
"I still don't want you to go," said Cirhan, leaning a little against Talin.
"It isn't any fun," Talin agreed. "But I'll come back."
"You promise?"
Talin glanced at Bren, who shrugged: 'your choice,' she mouthed.
"Yes, I promise," he said to Cirhan, laying his hand over his heart. "Good or bad, up or down, round and round, someday I'll come home. All right?"
"Good," Cirhan said, before dashing over to pester Meirhi and Oddain by the fireplace.
Duri, who gathered Bren into a hug, released her daughter and smiled at Talin. "Thank you for being kind to him. They think of you as a brother, you know, and I'm glad you don't push them away like Arhed does."
Talin shrugged in embarrassment. He didn't actually think of Bren's siblings as his own brothers and sisters, but there was no denying he was a lot closer to them than to his own father. "I like them," he said helplessly.
Duri smiled. "It shows. Now, I've already told you to keep an eye on Bren. I want you also to take care of yourself -- remember to eat properly, and remember that you're allowed to enjoy yourself. Arhed never realized that, I think, and I'd hate to see you end up like him after all these years. You hear me?"
Talin nodded. "Yes, Aunt Duri."
"Good." She smiled. "Now off with the both of you. Safe journey, wherever the Wheel may lead you."
"Safe journey," the others chorused.
"Safe harbor," Bren responded, accompanied by Talin's nod, before they shouldered their packs once again. "Be well."
Talin had a sudden premonition that no matter how much he promised to keep Bren out of trouble and avoid adventures, she was right that his life would be interesting. And people with interesting lives, people with strong moira, rarely returned to their homes. An age of his life was ending, and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to recover it.
The door swung shut behind them with a solid thunk of finality.
---------------------------------------------
End Chapter One
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-17 03:01 am (UTC)Nice characteristations again, enjoyed the friendly family bantering, a nice contrast to Talin's father. Well wrapped up chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-17 06:23 am (UTC)I'm personally not thrilled with this scene, since it dumps 5 new characters into the mix, and who won't be seen again until the end of the story (if that). They will be mentioned now and then -- people don't just totally forget about their families, after all -- but Duri's line about 'one of those interminable farewell scenes' is about what I feel about this scene. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out a way around it. *sigh* And I do like the contrast of Bren's family to Talin and his father.